


Law of Conservation of Energy

by Glossolalia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bad Ending, Blood and Gore, Breeding, Galra Keith (Voltron), Horror, M/M, Needles, One Shot, POV First Person, Suspense, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glossolalia/pseuds/Glossolalia
Summary: After entering a system of moons, Shiro is possessed by something that makes him less (or more) than human.





	

**Author's Note:**

> See y'all in hell.

### i.

In space, you have days when you miss the simple things, but I don't think I'm ever not missing something.

After the cravings for Coke Zero, cheap grocery store seaweed salad and an iTunes collection passes, the world as a living being comes back to haunt you. Sometimes it's the single setting sun simply named Sun that's orange and not mauve or turquoise, and sometimes it's something as simple as stepping into a shallow puddle after an overnight rain. Sensory things; atmospheric things; things like seasons with shifting temperatures and unique light.

It's like living tied to strained threads and watching them splinter but being incapable of creating slack. I know I'm no longer a part of my bionetwork. I tell myself my capacity to not care about this is what makes me a good half-human. It's funny. Humanity defined is us trying to outrun the fact we're animals, but we're all kind of bad at it. It's even expected to be bad at it, but when you're really good at being human? Well, there's something wrong with you or you're talented or you're just not human to begin with.

Maybe you're all three of those things.

I'm getting off topic. Anyway, I'm not sure if I understand it enough to keep going. I don't have the capacity to get it the way maybe Hunk and Pidge do, but I know it's there. I know it's why I miss Earth beyond material means. I know being an animal is why space sometimes sucks.

Back to missing things.

Recently, there was something wrong with one of the kitchen's goo pumps. I don't know the technical word. I'm not even going to try, but Coran insisted, ' _we have to make a stop before we eat each other or ourselves_ ,' which got me on this whole train of thought about autocannibalism that Shiro _really_ didn't like hearing about before bed.

" _Would you let me eat myself?"_

" _Keith…"_

" _I'd let you eat me, but not yourself. That's a lot, you know? You've been through enough."_

The planet we docked at, Ixia 3498U, wasn't affiliated with any major intergalactic trade systems, but it had an ancient junkyard, which sums up Castle Lion's technological integrity, I guess. Half the planet was laden with junk, and the other half looked like it was swathed in trees getting ready to change for autumn.

It was actually on fire, but that's not the point I'm making here. The mistaken imagery is what has me thinking –

I only experienced it when Shiro and I would drive north, but I miss fall. I miss hikes during fall. I miss hiking with Shiro during fall.

Crisp; like the air, like freshly fallen leaves combusting beneath the heels of hiking boots. Warm in increments; like clouds rolling across the sun, like puffs of air along the back of a naked neck.

There isn't anything attractive about stomping through the woods with someone as they watch you sweat and dodge spider webs, but when it came to Shiro, being attractive didn't matter. I don't remember ever finding myself wondering if he thought I was attractive, even when we first met and he decided he wanted to be affectionate with me.

"This is the perfect scene for a werewolf movie," Shiro once joked, climbing a steep hill, breathless and determined beside me. "You're even wearing red."

"Do I want to know why I have to be the werewolf, and you can't be the werewolf in a black jacket? You're trying to say something here."

He'd reached for my ponytail and tugged. "You're always looking for a fight. What if I just thought you'd look cute with the ears?"

I recoiled at ' _cute_.'

He stopped walking and turned toward me before bringing both hands behind his head. Palms forward, he hooked his index and middle fingers. "Ears, Keith. Think about it."

"Those look like horns."

Shiro grinned, too pleased with the idea. "That could work, too."

It was the smile that softened me, and I reached for his bicep. Tugging him closer, my other fist lightly punched his un-held arm. Like clockwork, Shiro leaned forward and intermittently kissed me, chanting ' _cute_ ' with every pop and then pressing his nose to my cheek. It took me a second, but I wrapped my arms around his neck so that my face could press to his jawline.

"You're emasculating me in front of the trees."

"These trees are too old and tired to care about social constructs."

Shiro was indisputably attractive, but it was how his mouth moved when he spoke that initially stopped me. Leaned over papers during his TA grind, Shiro would sit in the teachers' lounge for hours and silently speak over them; numbers building formulas that supported concepts. It reminded me of someone casting spells or maybe praying. Either way, the first time I saw him, the scene was hypnotizing.

He didn't see me.

He didn't see me until I was using microgravity to conduct research for a class project. It was after hours when I was hanging in the chamber, floating upside down and tossing apples through 'zero gravity' with a timer in hand.

He saw me, but I didn't see him.

It wasn't until they pinned us together during a demonstrative training exercise did we circle one another face-to-face. Garrison sportswear on and jackets discarded, both of us had heard about one another but never bothered speaking. There was both the quiet intrigue saddled by exclusionary competitiveness coddled by our military setting.

"Does this seem fair to you?" Shiro asked.

"Oh yeah," I said, fixing the wraps around my knuckles and looking him over with a scraping gaze. "Nervous, Shirogane?"

"A little, Kogane."

I pointedly stopped tugging at wrappings to look him in the eye. Shiro arched an eyebrow and then winked.

He had me on my back in seconds.

There's this cartoon. That popular one about the girls in sailor uniforms who fight, right? It's not like I remember exactly when I saw it—maybe with one of my 'sisters' in a foster home—but when the blonde girl transforms, these shiny pink ribbons burst out of her chest. She's surrounded by light, and she's preparing herself to fight a space monster or whatever. It's intense, and I just imagine her ribs contracting to protect her heart.

I met Shiro, and that was the feeling.

Ribbons cracking open my chest.

It hurt. I wouldn't recommend it, but then again, I don't think I'd want to know someone who's never experienced it.

"The rumors were true. You're good," he said, hovered over me with one of my knees hooked over the crook of his elbow. "You're _really_ good."

I answered through hard breathing. "You too."

"It hurt to say that, didn't it?" he asked and gently put down my legs, removed his pressing palm from my shoulder.

"No," I lied, and when he scrutinized me, I shifted my mouth to the side. " _Yeah_."

He smoothly stood with a small hop and righted himself. Shiro reached down to help me, and I smacked my hand to his before gripping. He effortlessly pulled me onto the flats of my feet, but instead of letting go, I turned the grip into a pointed handshake.

"Keith," I said, offering him familiarity.

He paused, startled. "Shiro."

Sometimes I feel like static crowding the wires. I'm not sure where it started or why. I don't hate myself, and I don't hate other people.

But Shiro takes away that burning sound. He taught me how to experience cool silences.

"We're going to die out here," I once said. It was a weaker moment early into our time on Castle Lion. One of those times when you suddenly realize one wrong fall could kill you, let alone piloting the Red Lion. "We're never going back to Earth, are we?"

"We don't know that," Shiro said. "I'm expecting us to make it back. I made it back."

"For five minutes," I teased and Shiro ruffled the back of my head. He didn't drop his hand and I turned my face toward his palm, mouth ghosting his scarred fingertips.

"The laws of thermodynamics," I said and walked toward the nearest window on the bridge. We'd been overlooking the passing stars and planets after dinner, waiting for food to settle before training. "How there's never more or less energy in the universe, even after someone dies. If we die out here, then maybe someday our energy will reach Earth again."

"Don't talk like that," Shiro said, making it into an order.

I leaned over the control deck and ran my fingers along the dial that magnified the ship's view of outside space. We were approaching a civilized sector that had only been lightly touched by the Galra regime. Planets with vast intergalactic ports overwhelming both culturally and in how dense they were. Too many living beings with too many foreign appendages.

The others loved trips to port cities, but all it did was make me tired.

"I want to go back with you," I whispered to more myself than him. I covered my mouth with a hand and leaned forward. "I don't want to die out here, but I think it's inevitable. What Paladin hasn't died in space? Damn –" My hand dropped from my lips. "It's kind of abysmal, isn't it?"

"I survived the Galran colosseum," Shiro said, words growing terser, impatient. "I survived it to come home to you. It doesn't end on a battlefield unless it absolutely has to."

"I don't trust myself to fight for anything except the win."

"I fought for you," he repeated. I didn't know how to respond. He continued. "I fought for you, and this is how you feel about everything? Hope, Keith. You have to _hope_."

"I hope we win," I shot back. In my peripheral vision, I saw him flinch. "I hope to protect the universe like we're meant to. Whatever comes after – I don't know, Shiro."

He reached for my hip and spun me. My back slammed against the deck, and I touched the front of his armor, knowing exactly what was and wasn't a weak spot. Shiro trusted me enough to know I wouldn't surge against him, and my bottom lip shook at the thought. The imbalance between our ideals had tilted since he'd left for Kerberos, but neither of us dared mention it.

"We'll make it home," he promised, continuing to search my face. I didn't give him the emotional reprieve he wanted. "Keith, please—"

"We'll make it home."

I said it for him.

 

### ii.

Being on Castle Lion came with inescapable climate changes for everyone's lives. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't deny Shiro's time in space had altered him in ways that only added to the sterile interior of the castle. It made sense. Suffering comes with a price and repression is real. Shiro would never be the same, and that was a mandatory 'fine' and 'okay.' Loving people through their hardships (particularly in war) is how it's supposed to work, no exceptions.

The Galra had done more than take his arm and give him nightmares, though. His behavior wasn't a cut and dry showpiece for shell shock. The symptoms he had weren't ones I'd found in the Garrison nurse's pamphlets; bioluminescent drooling, stabbing mood leveling dispensers into his biceps, heaving bile over intrusive thoughts and then sucking back growls through tight teeth.

It was alien, which made sense. Shiro had lived with them, been tortured by them, altered for their means.

"Shiro's been weird."

Lance said this, and I ignored him no matter how right he was. Wordlessly, I glanced his way, arched an eyebrow and returned to stuffing slime down my throat. I'd learned it could be sucked through teeth and swallowed like Jell-O. It'd been my trick to make myself choke down 2,500 calories a day since arriving at the castle.

"Keith—" Lance continued to dig. I ignored him _again_. " _Keith_ , are you going to say anything? You know I'm right, buddy. You know I've got this one."

"Hardly," I murmured and reached for my glass of water.

"He sniffed you in front of everyone. Nose in temple. Nose pressed so hard it looked like he was trying to find your brain, which he apparently didn't. Not surprised, though."

After whipping a spoonful of emerald gunk toward his head and intentionally missing, I had an answer. "He's stressed out. It's a sensory thing."

Lance wasn't convinced. "And your dirty hair calms him down?"

Apparently, but explaining my relationship with Shiro had been one of the greater avoidance points since arriving at Castle Lion. If I felt that it impacted our mission, then I would've mentioned it. Most likely, I would've ended it and with Shiro's blessing.

"My hair isn't dirty."

"Well, it sure isn't clean, and you're deflecting. Stop deflecting."

Lance had the right to ask about Shiro's behavior, but I had the habit of only divulging what I wanted when I wanted. Shiro's need to keep me nearby put that at risk. Lance could unknowingly drag information from me just by insisting I talk about his moods.

I averted my gaze and raised my guard. "He has phases. He's been through more than we know, even you know that."

Then again, Lance's hero complex with Shiro had caused him to dehumanize him more than once. He probably didn't know.

"Hiding out in his room and sleeping is a little different than sniffing people and watching them like a hawk."

"He doesn't _watch_ me."

That was also a lie.

I watched Shiro's back because it was my job to as Red Paladin, but lately, he'd been facing me, giving me alert looks and the subtlest walk arounds when he thought I wasn't on alert. It was only that morning he'd cornered me for a kiss that'd dissolved into tongue and panting. His fingers commandingly gripping at my hair, I'd gasped and wrinkled my nose in annoyance only to let him hoist me up so that my shoulders filled the empty hallway's corner. Had Allura not droned over the PA system to remind us that we were both late for training and security recordings did in fact exist on the castle, then we would've taken it further.

It wasn't the kissing that had worried me so much as Shiro actually being late for something.

He'd wiped the glowing saliva off my chin with an apology, ruffled my hair and kissed me once more before leading the way so that we could convene on the bridge.

"Say whatever makes you feel better, Keith. Something is off there, and it's gonna keep giving me the heebie jeebies until someone quits ignoring it like the elephant in the room." He pushed more green between his teeth and waited for me to challenge him. I didn't. "You like making charts and taping up string to connect thoughts. Figure this one out."

" _You_ figure it out if it bothers you that much."

Lance leaned forward, and I tore my eyes from his flat expression to watch him dig his spoon's handle into the tabletop with a hard twist. "I'm not the one who goes to bed with him every night. Why should I have to?"

"What are you talking about?"

More lies. Not to mention, bad lies.

"If you're going to lie about it, then you're better off lying by omission." Lance pushed back from the table and dropped the spoon onto his tray before lifting it and planting a hand on his hip. "We're a team. We look out for each other. I thought that was something you cared about."

My teeth clamped shut together as I tried to figure out a witty comeback, but for once, I knew he had me. It would've been better if it'd been in wit. Instead, he had me with guilt.

I told myself it was the stomach ache I'd had for the past two days, the sweating and pain in my joints from overworking myself. The cramps from training too hard.

It wasn't the fact I'd been stunned by my own morality.

 

### iii.

I did sleep with Shiro. As much as I wanted to pretend it wasn't a glaring part of my routine, my mood wrung out when we didn't go to bed together. The days of us sleeping pressed to one another were gone—he couldn't tolerate it now and touch churned bad dreams—but the heat and weight of another person beside me was a necessity after a year of so much nothing.

Finished eating and showered, I dragged myself into Shiro's and my shared dorm with Lance's words making knots in my back. Everyone else was asleep, explaining the hushed darkness in the barracks, but I knew odds were Shiro was awake.

He didn't sleep well. It was hard to get him to sleep most nights.

The doors opened to the dimly lit bedroom, and he was seated on the bed, leaned over his spread knees with his flesh arm twisted across his chest and the bionic arm holding an injector gun. The incandescent red liquid sloshed inside the glass vial as he shifted his gaze to meet mine, and my mouth dried when he pulled the trigger, slowly filling his veins with the potent stabilizer.

"Rough day?" I asked with an unfinished smile.

Shiro flexed his shirtless arm and met my smile as if it were the most casual thing. When he spoke, his mouth glowed. "Better than some."

"Did you see we're about to go through a system of moons?" I asked and tossed my gloves onto the desk stacked with forgotten alien cup-o-noodles wearing indecipherable flavor labels. They'd been sitting there long enough to build an ecosystem, and I peered into one with a grimace. I reached for Shiro's tablet where he kept his schedule and moved it away from the biohazard. "It looks kinda cool, but uh – I'll clean these up tomorrow morning."

"It looked like you were trying to grow a pet, so I let them be."

By the time I looked back, the tight muscles along Shiro's jaw had softened. The medication he valued above all else on the castle had settled in, and I knew it was okay to approach him. Towel discarded on the floor, I plopped down onto the mattress beside him and wordlessly pressed my cheek to his bicep, eyes slowly losing focus as I zoned out. Shiro hummed in response and slid an arm around my waist. His mouth pressed to the top of my head, and we sat there. Our breathing and the ship's unending white noise was all I heard.

"Are you going to bed soon?" he asked and tugged a tendril of my wet hair. "You were training all day."

I exhaled and rolled onto my side, eyes refocusing when his bionic hand clapped against my thigh and pushed me until I was comfortably on my back. We exchanged a knowing smile, but I was the first to laugh, sliding a palm over my mouth to stop it and sober myself with a hum. After giving Shiro a long, contemplative look, I brought an arm behind my head and exhaled. He looked at me expectantly, and I arched an eyebrow, then raising a hand and crooking a single finger. It was subtle, but I spread my thighs just enough for him to take the hint. He snorted at the gesture and uncertainly ruffled his bangs as he contemplated his next actions, teasing by taking his time.

"Are you sure after that training?" he asked and leaned forward to crawl over me. The bed dipped beneath this weight, and I reached out with the same hand that'd gestured 'come hither.' It carded through Shiro's bangs, and weakly, I gripped and helped him lower down.

"My lion is about stamina and speed, remember?"

The slight lick of his upper-lip and thoughtful pause made me snort. My other hand slithered from his stomach to the rise of his pectorals, and I felt him up as he spoke, kneading clothed muscle. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought it was speed and accuracy."

His talking didn't stop me from lowering him. Shiro's mouth hovered near mine, the breath clean and crisp from fresh brushing and the cold water he religiously drank. "Accuracy—that, too. You'd know that, though. Better than anyone else."

He splayed a hand along my ribs and ghosted them downward, barely disturbing my shirt until he found the hem. His cold hand slithered beneath the fabric and pushed upward, leading me to reach and tug it overhead. Hungrier than usual, I ignored the heat digging its roots into my lower abdomen, filling me with purpose.

"You smell good," he whispered against my mouth and kissed me once. The next one wasn't so much of a kiss as a playful bite on my bottom lip. My lids lowered and he matched my gaze. " _Really_ good—like apple cider or something mulled. It's almost too sweet. Sort of like when you eat too much candy and it burns your tongue and throat. That's what you smell like. It's good, but it's…" He stopped, momentarily shifting his look away. My head drifted to the side to hunt for eye contact, and when I found it again, he lifted an eyebrow. Shiro's scrutiny shifted past my head, and it took a moment before I realized he was drinking in the sight of my throat. "This is weird, isn't it? I'm being weird."

"It's not weird."

It was weird.

I pretended I knew how to use logic with him hot and heavy between my legs. "It might be a change in water quality. Allura mentioned filters at breakfast and Coran— _Shiro_ —"

Without giving me the dignity of a warning, Shiro shifted forward and buried his nose into my nape, catching me off guard. Nearly clawing, he dug his fingers into my hair and simultaneously pressed his whole body against mine. Shiro shifted his weight, bionic hand planting itself against my head, and with unexpected intensity, he bucked forward in a way that made me habitually groan. Giving a grunt that let me know he was satisfied with the sound, he breathed in deep and ignored my weak ' _fuck._ ' I mashed down another groan, but he restored it with his opened mouth, grazing blunt teeth along the sensitive patch of skin beneath my jaw.

The teeth made me jolt, the dizziness that followed created a sheen of sweat along my shoulders, and I murmured his name, legs wrapping around his hips.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, not stopping him, not wanting to really know.

His incisors dug against my pulse, causing me to suck in an uncertain moan. As if tempted to break the skin, he clamped down but stopped entirely, second guessing. Shiro nuzzled against the threatened spot and my free hand reached for his bicep, eyes fluttering closed.

The thrusting continued, creating friction between us that made my tongue wet. Knowing how good it felt without clothing made the movements annoying, frustrating, and I tried to tighten my legs' hold to send the message, but Shiro wanted his pace, his control.

"Shiro, I want to—" He reached with his scarred fingers and pressed them to my mouth, but rather then suck them, I kissed his knuckles, dragging my tongue along the bubbled flesh that'd built up through fights and tired callouses.

The bed protested beneath us, and my breathing caught in my throat. Wordless as ever, his own breathing quickened, causing my kisses and suckles to become desperate, needy.

"It'll help you sleep," I whispered, aching between my legs with blood pooling toward my cock. He was killing me with the anticipation, leaving my skin prickly and body irritated. I unwrapped my legs to shove my sweats past my thighs, and as soon as I lifted my hips to sweep the fabric down, Shiro wrapped his arm around my hips and effortlessly spun me onto my stomach, forcing me to bare everything.

I hated that I liked it. I hated that I wanted him to halve me, break me until his name was razors on my throat, but that was because this was _different_. The sheer want was sick, but not sick because I wanted it that bad. I was literally sick. If he didn't fuck me right then, then I was certain my insides would have a nuclear meltdown. The rush in my navel suddenly contracted, and I choked on a hoarse scream, shoulders shifting like a defeated animal.

The sudden sweep of kisses along my spine made me knead the bedding with one hand and continuously comb back my bangs. I opened my mouth when he reached my naked shoulder, but no words came out. Instead I started to grind, begging for relief from the minor brushing against sheets.

This urgency was unlike us.

Not that we hadn't been quick and to the point before. There were times after unsure battles when we'd step out of our lions and the first thing Shiro did was rip off his helmet and then tug mine up and over my ears. My helmet still in hand, he'd kiss me until I had to lean back against Red and pant for air, tongue laving against his and hands trembling because we'd almost died again, we'd almost been incinerated by a fleet too big for five people.

" _Get back in the lion."_

" _Post-battle meeting, Shiro. Allura said."_

" _It'll be okay for thirty minutes."_

Still belly-down, my knees crept beneath me. I stopped brushing my fingers through my hair and gripped to soften the hum of humiliation. Behind me, Shiro's breathing ran ragged, but I curved my back farther down, doing my best not to nuzzle the pillow in anticipation and simply show him what I wanted.

"Fuck me," I ordered, teeth grinding on the words. I slithered my hand down my stomach, reaching for my cock that was stiff and leaking onto clean bedding. The head was so sensitive that when my palm ghosted it I whimpered. It felt good, but it was overwhelming to the point of being painful, enough to inspire a plea. "This hurts."

"Too much?"

"Why does this _hurt_ , Shiro – _hah_ …"

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, and I knew that serious tone, the warning. The only thing different was the strain on his words, the evident desire to not stop.

" _No_."

My hips shifted when he caught my balls, his flesh fingers languidly rolling them in a way that was so gratuitous and slow he could've milked me and put me to sleep right there.

"I'll take care of you," he murmured. The words inspired a blossom of heat so penetrating and alien I cried out, fought both the tremble in my thighs and an onset of tears that spilled out. Rasping against a sob, he pressed his mouth to my ear. "We both want this – don't we?"

He was right about the smell, but it was fainter for me and nothing like what he'd described. It was a musk reminiscent of pine forest. The scent took me back to Earth, took me out of my head and back to us hiking. The visions made every touch and stroke along the back of my thighs feel ethereal and pale. It was surreal. The moment was surreal in a way that made it difficult to piece together then and makes it difficult to conceptualize now.

" _Don't_ ," I begged when he flicked his tongue along the shell of my ear, dragged it downward until he could suck my earlobe. I grappled backward for one of his thighs, catching his hip and pulling him closer instead. "Give it to me. Fuck it into me, Shiro. Fuck them into me—"

He paused and sucked at my throat, digging his teeth in. "Fuck what into you? Tell me what you want from me."

"I don't know. _I don't know_."

"Keith, you know what it is," he breathed, fingers curling around my hip and jerking me back so that his cock pressed between my bare thighs. "It's that Galra part of you you keep fighting."

Shiro pressed himself to my entrance, and something in my head reminded me that this wasn't how things worked. We needed lube, we needed preparation. I couldn't take him, and we'd discovered that as soon as we went all the way on the castle. Shiro was unconcerned, though. An injured sniff never made it out of me. He swept his fingers along the insides of my thighs, and there he found a foreign slickness that was hot, sticky even in its abundance.

"Put it in," I begged, teeth clamped and thighs quaking. "Shiro, I'm going to die. Please, _please_ …"

He made me wish I was mute.

Shiro thrust forward, opening me up with a burn that should've hurt significantly more, and without warning, my vision went to static. Breath tore from my lungs, and from there, all I knew was the width of him, the fullness that wrung me out and urged me to pound backwards until I couldn't properly breathe. The heat between us weighed tons, the air perfumed with a scent that was so much more than sex. I knew that smell, but this had me drooling, screaming until I could only pant when Shiro tugged me back toward the base of his cock. He sank into me over and over again, and it was good. My body had never known anything half as fucking good.

Too much, so fucking much, somehow not enough.

Shiro caught the front of my throat and jerked me back, spine slamming to chest as he continued to buck upward. His thrusts became shallow and to the point, nudging something inside that made my cock twitch and body teeter on the edge of release. I wanted to touch myself, but I knew it'd hurt and make me cry more. Instead, I reached for the back of Shiro's head and looked over my shoulder, pulling him down into a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than lips against lips. He sucked my tongue, murmured my name, and much to my satisfaction, I realized the position had me pinned to him. Pulling him out would be difficult, and that's exactly what I'd wanted.

"More," I begged, hissing the words against his chin. He grabbed my hips and lifted me before letting me collapse down. Shiro gruffly moaned, the noise barely stitched together. "More, Shiro. _More_ …"

Shiro's thighs tensed beneath me and the eased stretching stopped being easy. My mouth opened in a silent yell, but my body didn't want to stop in general. I could've elbowed Shiro off, but the rounding of what wanted to push inside was too tempting. I lowered myself a little more and tilted my head back against his shoulder, trying to fit it in, trying to ease in whatever was there without thought for safety. Shiro's hands stopped on my hips, and his pointed thrusting became gentle, coaxing my body open so that we could finish the job. Whatever that job was.

"This is what I wanted," I remember myself muttering, shifting back against him and rasping. Shiro's fingers curled around my cock and started to jerk at the base, tightening his grip until my writhing returned and the spasming in my stomach relaxed. At the relaxation, my body collapsed onto that round mass at the root of Shiro's length. With a startled cry, the exorbitant amount of heat in my gut unfurled. My back bowed, and as pain seared through my body's plea to adjust, cum sputtered into Shiro's hand and onto my trembling stomach.

"There we go," he muttered.

Shiro pushed me forward, shoved my head down into the mattress, and tried to fuck into me. The tug outward made me scream into the pillow, and he ceased movement at the realization we were stuck. I heard him mutter ' _what_ ' before collapsing under the weight of the moment and finishing inside me, unable to pull out and filling my insides with what felt like endless jets of cloudy white. The heat eased whatever pain I'd been feeling before, and with sweat dampened bangs, I nuzzled the bed, moaning in relief.

"Fuck," Shiro hissed and reached beneath me to toy with my cock, stroking at the softening mass and running his thumb along the spot beneath my balls just because he could. "Jesus, you're so much."

I didn't leave his room for a week.

 

### iv.

So many signs and yet I refused to hold myself accountable. It wouldn't be the first time, but this was as a means to protect Shiro.

It was only a couple weeks, but for the sake of something new, we'd stalled the ship within the the moon cluster while mapping out plans to fight Lotor. Purely for atmosphere, Pidge and I found ourselves on one of the elevated training decks with windows for walls. It overlooked the entirety of the distant lunar field, and it was a fight to train and not get distracted by the sights. Pidge was certain it existed beyond Earth's astrological theories, a stagnant realm of moons that orbited together so unique in their pattern she swore they were intelligent design, geometric even. When we pulled back the map, they made an arithmetical blossom-shape.

Seeing this, Lance gave his opinion.

"Remember that episode of Futurama where Fry lines up the suns for Leela and then they explode before she can see the one thing that makes her like him enough for them to be together? It was sad, man. Like, that's something that'd happen to me."

Hunk picked at his ear, barely remembering if at all. "Never really got into vintage cartoons. I think I remember that one, though. Iverson referenced it a lot."

"It's like a hundred-years-old," Pidge muttered. "It was old even for him."

Intellectual design or romantic failings aside, the moons kept catching my eye to the point I had to give Pidge and me an intermission and approach the window. She appeared beside me, panting with heaving shoulders and observing it with a different mind than me.

"Maybe we're literally parked in someone's artwork," Pidge said, glancing up at me as I shrugged with my Marmora sword lazily in hand. "The planet we're orbiting doesn't have any known lifeforms, though. It hasn't been populated in 5,000 years. That's when the last signal for Voltron was sent. Allura and I both agreed Zarkon's genocide reached here."

We solemnly exchanged looks.

"Not surprised," I breathed, but I didn't have time to say much else on the matter.

The training deck's doors flew open, and in sprinted Coran, breathless and haggard looking with fresh blood trickling from his marred temple. We shifted back to assist him, but he beat us to our concern. "Paladins, something isn't—"

Above, the hygienic white lights flickered, stopping him mid-sentence as he tilted back his head. Coran reached and caught the side of his head with a pointed ' _wouldn't call that good_ ' beneath his breath before conspicuously shifting his gaze to the side, then listening.

The castle's feminine AI voice tore over the speakers:

**POWERING DOWN TRAINING SIMULATOR**

**GENERATORS DISENGAGED**

**AUTOPILOT NOW IN LOCK**

Pidge stepped away from the window, Bayard out and brows lifted toward her hairline, something dawning on her before me. "The only way to disengage the generators and activate Allura's reserve power is through a code, a manual code that requires physical input. Who turned off the power, Coran?"

"Hate to be the bearer of the worst news, Number Five, but if what happened just happened, then it was likely Shiro." Coran glanced over his shoulder, eyes growing at the realization the doors were still open. "He attacked me and the princess outside the bridge. There was definitely something wrong with him. He didn't look normal. Never seen eyes on any of you humans like that before. Tried to get him with a good ole neck tornado, but—"

"Where's Allura?" I snapped, fearing the worst. "Where's Shiro now?"

His grave expression said enough. "She was right behind me. She said she was going to meet me here after we split ways."

As if summoned, Allura bolted into the training room, out of uniform with her hair plastered to her forehead and teeth welded together. Mouth bleeding, she spat blood to the side and shifted her attention to the training doors. Coran didn't need to be told. They lurched toward the doorways, tugging them together with all their strength until there was only a fingers width of space left between the doors.

Allura pushed herself away from it and turned toward me. "I've contacted Lance and Hunk on the open channel. They're currently trying to hack the seal on the security feeds, but the last time they updated me someone had changed the codes. Pidge, can you make it to the bridge without being seen? There's no way to protect you in the hallways."

"Don't worry, Princess. After Sendak, I figured out how to get around the castle better than the mice."

Said mice appeared on Allura's shoulder, rattled and squeaking amongst one another before darting toward Pidge, toward the safest option.

"I knew I could count on you, Pidge." She shifted her gaze to me, promptly tying back her hair and swallowing more blood. It was only when she faced me did I notice her shattered tooth. "Keith, as second-in-command, I need you to think of a way to capture Shiro. Preferably, without bringing him to any harm."

"Preferably," I said, trying to mask my dark translation.

"I can't exclude any potential choices. You haven't seen him yet. You haven't battled him yet. Shiro is capable of doing more harm than—"

A roar—an actual animalistic roar—slammed against us like a gust of wind. Rather than run, we were stunned by its proximity, unnerved due to how familiar its tenor was, but also, by how unfamiliar its rage was. I shifted back at the sound of oncoming footsteps, chest heaving.

"Pidge," Allura started and lifted her palms so that a blue and white crossbow materialized. It was a blaster like Lance and Hunk's guns. I'd once watched its seafoam blue arrows tear through a full torso, implode and then combust the building behind the creature. "Pidge, you need to go. Find the others and secure all the lions. This is Galra interference. Only Haggar and her Druids would have the nerve to do something this despicable to Shiro."

"They're trying to kill us from the inside out," I muttered, lifting a hand so my shield appeared. I regretted not training in armor.

Pidge exchanged a long look with me. I saw it in her eyes; the questions, concerns, the fear for herself, Shiro and me. I nodded at her as if to encourage her onward, and with a furrowed brow, she darted away and disappeared through a vent she tore open with her Bayard.

We didn't have time to discuss a strategy. The training deck's doors were abruptly slammed against once, twice and then there was a halt. This intermittent silence rapidly filled the harsh breathing of whatever creature had possessed Shiro's body.

"Quiznak," Coran whispered. "We need another way out."

I peered through the abyssal slit between the doors. The hallways were still black, and the dead generators were forcing us to understand the blackness of open space. It was easy to forget how alone we really were until moments like this.

My feet instinctively stepped closer as the anticipation built within the room like a swelling balloon. More breathing, more lack of action, and then without omen, a single yellow eye pressed to the door's opening, frenziedly searching the room. It shifted across all of us with unfocused arcs, and as if flash frozen, stopped on me.

It narrowed and the breathing escalated.

Dread—I hadn't known dread like that since hearing the words 'pilot error.'

The eye widened, straining and quaking in its concentration. The idea of being its target made me tighten my grip on my sword.

"How far is the infirmary through the vents?" I asked, taking another step back and toward the opening Pidge had made.

"I don't know," Allura said. "We'd have to make approximates."

Beneath the eye, a glowing mouth slowly peeled itself open. It revealed a row of descended fangs that gleamed like opals.

"Keith," it whispered.

I said nothing.

"Keith, come here."

The eye audibly blinked, wetly popping.

"Go," I quietly ordered and shifted backward with a hop that gave me the momentum to turn and run. "Go!"

This order was followed by Shiro stuffing a pair of black gnarled claws through the minimal space and wrenching them open as if parting curtains. The grinding of steel made my head ring, and I thought about the fact it'd taken Coran and Allura's full strength just to tug the doors together.

Allura turned, firing her lowest setting arrow once and momentarily pausing to see if she'd managed damage. While I didn't see the hit, her paled expression told me it'd done nothing.

"Shiro," she breathed and returned to sprinting. "What have they done to you?"

Before Allura and Coran could slow us down by properly crawling, I made the example of running as fast I could and dropping to slide home through the vent entry. Getting the general idea, they did the exact same thing and disappeared into darkness along with me. There was no way to hesitate if we wanted to live, and instead of waiting, I scrambled to my feet and bolted down the unending hallway of vents.

"Infirmary!" I yelled hard enough for my voice to scratch. "Allura, which way to the infirmary? Shiro's been using mood stabilizers."

"Mood stabilizers?" she snapped back. "Keith, we don't have mood stabilizers on the castle outside of controlled crystal healings and cryo-pods."

"They're too easy for Paladins to abuse," Coran added. "War does funny things to people, and there's a history of it being a problem."

"Wrong," I countered and continued bounding when I heard the eerie panting of Shiro's beast gaining on us. "Shiro's been injecting himself with red mood stabilizing serum for months."

"Red?" Coran snapped, finally speaking through his shock.

"Yeah— _red_. They're in vials. You put them in injection guns."

"Keith," Coran snapped and darted ahead to run alongside me. "Those aren't mood stabilizers. Those are tranquilizers meant for our biggest prisoners. How long has he been using them?"

My brain flooded with memories of Shiro inserting the red liquid into his veins, even going as far as to ask me to help him the first handful of times. I breathed in the thick air, trying to wrap my head around the implications of him abusing tranquilizers.

"Since the wormhole. Since before we found him in the alternate reality."

Coran tugged at my bicep and guided us around another corner. At the end of the hallway, there was a drop that looked eternal, but he reassured us it was shallow. One by one, we plunged down into the even thicker darkness and continued our sprint. I winced as soon as I heard Shiro's body fall after us, knowing he was too close for comfort, knowing he could kill us all.

"Princess!" Lance's voice crackled across the headset. "Princess, where are you guys! Where's Coran and Keith?"

"They're with me!" Allura called, sounding relieved. "Lance, we're heading to the infirmary now. Do you have security feeds open and our tracking devices back online?"

"Sort of," Hunk interrupted and I heard him snatch the headset out of Lance's hand. "We can see you guys are in the walls, but without light, the cameras are kind of useless. Where's Shiro?"

"Approximately thirty feet behind us!" I yelled and shoved Allura around the next corner. She stumbled, but caught herself, and we continued racing.

"That's not good," Hunk murmured. "That is _not_ good, guys."

Pidge yanked the headset from his hands with a sharp ' _give me that_.' It was a relief to know she was taking control. "Listen, Allura. The infirmary is a sixty ticks run from where you all are. The only venting system is over a hallway. It's a death drop. Your best bet is to add an extra sixty and circle around to a ground vent the wing over and get back into the main hallway that way."

"Will you be able to open the doors by the time we get there?" I asked, swiping the sweat off my forehead before it blinded me. "Every second counts, Pidge."

"I don't know," Pidge admitted. "Someone changed all of the codes. This system is old, but it's still top of the line security and Coran just updated it. Getting around it is going to take a while."

There was another roar, and this one sounded blood thirsty, enraged by the chase.

"Problem," Coran interjected. "We've got a problem here. If Shiro has built up an immunity to our strongest tranquilizer on board, then there's nothing in the infirmary that can help us. What happens if we get there, the tranquilizers don't work and he destroys cryo-pods during the fight? We'll all be out of luck if anyone gets hurt while trying to stop him. We can't risk it."

All three of us turned a corner and we were met by a shadowy maze. It was impossible to stop running, and my heart skipped a beat at the thought of reaching a dead end.

"We have to get to our lions," I said. "We get to our lions and find a planet carrying a place with stronger tranquilizers that won't kill him. No one stays on board except Shiro. If we have our lions, then they can't open the hangar to the Black Lion. If they still get the Black Lion, then at least we have the four other lions. Lotor can't pilot the Black Lion. We have the Black Bayard."

Pidge hummed and I heard her fingers clicking across a keyboard. "There's only one main vent that leads to the bays. Turn left _now_." We followed her direction, and she continued. "If we time it right, then we can all meet up in the hallway at once. Remember this now because I only have time to say it once; left, right, left, left, right, forward and take the right hallway when you reach the fork. That'll lead you toward a decline you can slide down. You'll drop into the main hallway, and we'll be twenty feet to your right. We'll bring the headset, but I can't keep my laptop open."

"Got it, Pidge," I answered and lead the next turn, reciting her route again and again like a chant.

Sweat soaked and chilled by fear, the three of us managed to follow Pidge's directions, not bothering to check in on her and the others for fear of slowing ourselves. Shiro's pursuit hadn't stopped, the sound of another's footsteps vaulting behind us smothering my usual ability to barrel through any situation. It was the same ability that'd pushed me to fight Zarkon the first time.

By the time we reached the final hallway, we were winded, exhausted from the inability to stop or look back. Allura muttered a foreign 'praise' when she spotted Pidge, and the others looked to us with high key fear on their faces. No one was in armor, and only Allura, Pidge and I had any kind of weapon. This realization tore through my anxiety.

"Run!" I ordered. "Everyone start running!"

There are certain things on Earth I didn't properly understand until I found myself away from the planet. One of those things was love and what it means to love someone or something enough to allow yourself to endure unconceivable amounts of pain both physical and emotional. My initial infatuation with Takashi Shirogane led me to believe I knew the scope, but it wasn't in his favor that I was expelled and found solace in a desert shack I'd once ran from. It wasn't in his favor for me to tear myself inside out and blame me, me, me.

That was about me.

That was about me diluting the reality of the situation and what he would've expected from me with romanticized self-loathing.

But then there was fighting Zarkon, and then there was this.

We were met by a dead end. Not a dead end, but a door that needed to be blasted through and torn open. Doing so was too time sensitive, and I could only think about my friends. Allura paused and heaved her chest, muttering something about ' _magic resistant steel_ ' and ' _my bow can't destroy this_.' Lance and Hunk strained to muster their Bayards, and when they miraculously appeared, began blasting at the slate of metal together.

"Keep opening it," I said evenly, looking over my shoulder and hearing those pounding footsteps closing in on us. "I'll distract him."

"Keith!" Pidge shouted, voice peeling from her throat. "Keith, don't go alone! Let me—"

"Open the door!" I shouted at her, the order a fierce command Shiro would've never hit her with. I didn't have time to be disappointed in myself. "Help them get to the lions! I'm in charge, and that's what we're doing. I can hold him off. I'll meet everyone outside."

Allura reached for me, but I tore from her potential hold and materialized my shield. Understanding I didn't know what to expect, I barreled forward and lost my nerves to adrenaline. There wasn't much space for a fight. Already, I saw my disadvantages and could compute my chances, but they didn't matter.

Chances were chances.

Live or die or love and combust like a small sun. For all I knew, we'd meet each other and collapse the way I'd always expected us to. No one gets away with being as happy as I was with Shiro. People are never allowed to be that happy. The universe is built on balance, and to be that enthralled, that overjoyed to have the unfortunate dead returned to you and willing to sift through the sands of time and grief by your side – Well, how was that fair to the laws of the universe?

A fluke.

What a fucking fluke.

Darkness and enclosed walls shadowed Shiro's oncoming form. It was hulking, shoulders far wider than I recalled and movements lumbering like an antithesis to human's natural gate. The bile climbing my throat told me he was steps beneath human, but what did I know?

I hadn't even been able to tell whether or not _I_ was human.

The yellow eyes illuminated enough of Shiro's face for me to see where he was moving, but I didn't have time to think when his glowing purple arm rose to strike. I yelled his name and we collided with a defining spark that rattled my arms. When his bionic hand slammed against my shield, it was by cruel design I was forced to peer through the transparent material and look him in the eye.

His strength was unparalleled, bending me back and forcing me to delve deep into whatever desperate strength I could gather. I pushed against him, tears welling in my eyes due to the sear the effort put on my muscles. It was cheap, but I kneed upward, slamming my kneecap into his navel twice in a row until he was startled enough to step back.

Swinging myself around with the sword raised, I narrowed in on his bionic arm and told myself to remove it, shred it from his system and finally purge him of any Galra association that wasn't me.

Shiro seemed to know what I was going for. He brought back his bionic fist with a tight flex that only summoned more power to the machine. Sharp and to the point, he extended his fingers and flung it at me with all his strength. I rushed him and slid beneath his arm to make my way past. I was off my knees in seconds and spun to face him, chest dipping and rising.

Stepping back, I shifted my shoulders with a condescending smile. "You had your eye on me, didn't you? Is there something you _want_?"

"You know what I want." The husky voice was unlike Shiro's cool water tone, and I considered the danger in him not knowing himself. "You wanted it, too."

With every step he took toward me, I stepped back.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His next words were spoken plainly without an ounce of affective emotion. "Give it to me. Fuck it into me, Shiro. Fuck them into me."

My mouth dried, and I lowered the sword and shield. " _That's_ what you want? _That's_ why you're doing this? Shiro, something went wrong and you know it wasn't normal—"

He cut me off, not wanting to hear me talk. This wasn't Shiro.

"It's a part of my reward for getting rid of the other three Paladins and Princess," he answered, rolling his jaw and looking bored with the situation. "I keep the Red Paladin."

"Shiro would never."

Hearing him made my stomach churn, numbed my fingers. Rather than humor him, I crooked my index finger and rapidly stepped backward again, bearing teeth. He swiftly walked forward to test my reflex, and it was reactive for me to find the threat and run toward it. Shiro let me race forward.

Bare fisted and expressionless, he punched directly into the center of my shield, and I cleared my throat when it split in two, suddenly dissolving into a sheet of glitter. The hiccup tore the fight in two, entirely unprecedented, and Shiro rushed me, self-assured. His Galra hand was no longer fully engaged to fight but still illuminated with a white hot power that burned when his palm clasped onto my wrist. Shiro ruthlessly jerked me to his chest, taking advantage of my one weakness.

I didn't want to kill him.

"You're not even fighting," he observed.

Close for the first time since the chase, I saw his slit pupils. They were barely detectable through the slate yellow, but there they were, searching my face. I ripped my arm back and hurdled my sword forward to press the blade to his neck, but he used his free hand to clasp tight onto my forearm, squeezing with the silent promise to break it.

"Don't do this," I said, words thick with desperation. He roughly shoved me downward. "Don't do this to them, Shiro. We need you to come through. You _always_ come through."

Down the hall, the others continued to wrench and tear, Pidge pleading for them to hurry in words too far away to decipher. As long as they got away that was what mattered. If the other Paladins could keep their lives, then this moment was a success.

Shiro grabbed me by my hair and effortlessly shoved me onto my back. Rather than strand myself, I let him think I loved him too much to pack a punch, and in some way, that was true. I couldn't yet. He hadn't pushed me far enough yet. Even when he parted his lips and globules of glowing spit dribbled onto my chest, I didn't strike. When I noticed his lips were black and ears had shifted toward the top of his head and taken on the shape of Sendak's bat ears, I _still_ didn't strike. There was terror, but I'd been terrified before.

After all, I'd been forced to live without him.

He opened his mouth and his fangs caught the minimal light. I attempted to lift my arm to block his head, but there was no escaping the sudden dive downward. His teeth found my throat, but before he could clamp down, I shifted my blade upward and drove it toward the ceiling. It tore through his near impenetrable abdominals, and at the realization of what I was doing, I ground my molars through an enraged sob. The rush of blood on my shaking hand was sideswiped by the momentary sting of needles entering my skin. It evolved into a loud shred and my guttural scream that silenced the work at the end of the hallway.

Thick blood hurried toward my mouth and bubbled at the corner of my lips. The metallic tang became nauseating, but the nausea didn't matter. None of it mattered when we finally stared one another down, gazes dissolving from tense to soft disbelief that seemed to reverse whatever Shiro had been possessed by. His maw was covered in my blood and my heart was attempting to compensate for what was happening. Hesitantly, I reached for Shiro's head and drug him down so that his forehead pressed to mine.

I was dying.

I was going to die.

I knew too well it was over.

Without only seconds to spare, I weakly smiled and managed a superficial laugh of disbelief. It gurgled in my throat. The noise barely made it out alive.

"Love, huh?"

Shiro's eyes shimmered and his pupils juddered. His own blood began to drip from between his teeth and onto my own mouth. To spare us both, I tightened my grip on the handle of the blade and thrust upward once more, making sure neither of us survived, making sure neither of us would have to live through the unbearable.

The last thing I heard after he gagged on the pain was my name.

"Keith."

"Shiro."

" _The laws of thermodynamics. How there's never more or less energy in the universe, even after someone dies. If we die out here, then maybe someday our energy will reach Earth again."_

" _Don't talk like that."_

" _I want to go back with you."_


End file.
